Dark Waltz
by Zane's Girl- Jo
Summary: Dance me into the night, underneath the full moon shining so bright. Let the dark waltz begin… Ron has lost his one true love. After witnessing Hermione sacrifice herself for Ginny in the war, Ron returns to her grave to visit with her.


**Dark Waltz**

**Disclaimer: These characters are property of J.K. Rowling. I use for entertainment.**

**Summary: _Dance me into the night, underneath the full moon shining so bright. Let the dark waltz begin…_**

**Ron has lost his one true love. After witnessing Hermione sacrifice herself for Ginny in the war, Ron returns to her grave to visit with her. Amidst the heartache, he encounters Hermione's spirit in the graveyard. After a brief conversation, the two share a special waltz in the graveyard, before she moves on.**

**A/N: Features the song 'Dark Waltz' at the beginning and end.**

**A/N: I got the idea when I was watching 'Dancing with the Stars' on Halloween. Mario Lopez (the sexiest man on earth!) was dancing a waltz to this song with his partner. He explained that he was a man dancing one last dance with his deceased love. So, I figured, there could be more to this story. Here it is.**

**A/N: Written before the sixth and seventh books came out.**

**A/N: I got the idea for Hermione's ring, from the fact that I have a ring that belonged to my adopted grandmother, and I believe that it holds a piece of my grandmother's soul.**

**A/N: _Major credit goes to Hayley Westenra,_ who sings the song 'Dark Waltz'. Thanks to her, this song would not be in existence, and it wouldn't bring the chills up your spine like it did mine. Only a truly talented singer could make a song sound that haunting and wonderful. _A huge round of applause and a ton of credit to Hayley Westenra!_**

_We are the lucky ones_

_We shine like a thousand suns_

_When all of the colours run together_

_I'll keep you company_

_In one glorious harmony_

_Waltzing with destiny forever_

_Dance me into the night, _

_Underneath the full moon shining so bright_

_Turning me into the light_

_Time dancers whirling pastI gaze through the looking glassand feel just beyond my grasp is heaven_

_---- "Dark Waltz" by Hayley Westenra_

Ron stood in the graveyard, a rose clutched in his hand. A single tear slid down his cheek and landed on the cold granite stone before him. The full moon shone overhead, casting shadows on those around the stone.

Hermione Jane Granger

1979-1996

Beloved Daughter

May you dance with the angels

His beloved, his one true love, his Hermione lay under the earth. She had sacrificed herself for his sister, Ginny. A flash of green light and a high-pitched scream were seared into his memory of that final night of war.

He would have given his life to take her place, to lie under the earth; he wouldn't care, as long as she had lived. He knew she would have wanted him to go on, meet someone, marry, have children, grow old, and die a peaceful death. But he couldn't. No one could take her place. No one ever would.

Ron came every night. But tonight was different. It was Halloween. The night she died. The night he had proclaimed his love to her, the night he had proposed, and she had accepted. It was so clear, like it was yesterday.

"_Hermione, there's something I have to tell you." He said, taking her hand. _

"_What is it, Ron?" Her chocolate eyes gazed into his. _

"_I… I ...." Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips gently against hers. Pulling away, he slowly opened his eyes, only to see Hermione wiping tears off her cheeks. _

"_I'm sorry Hermione. I don't know what came over me." He flushed._

"_No, it's not that. It's just, that I've waited ten years for you to do that." She replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. _

"_Hermione, I love you. Will you marry me?" He whispered into her hair. _

"_Yes." The soft reply sounded in his ear. _

"I love you Hermione." He whispered as the memory returned to the crevices of his mind. Slowly, he knelt and laid the dead rose on the dirt in front of her stone. It was purple and wilted, black on the edges. A dead rose for his dead love. His eyes focused on nothing, the tears welled in his eyes, glistened, and raced down his cheeks; he made no effort to wipe them away.

"I love you too, Ron." The soft reply came on the gentle breeze. Slowly, he lifted his head, blinking back tears. 'It's your imagination, Ron. You're imagining things.' His conscious told him. But the voice had been so clear, so real, so…. so _hers_.

Standing slowly and cautiously, Ron gazed on something he thought he'd never see again. Hermione. She was dressed in a long, white dress, a headband in her long, curly brown hair. It was his mind playing tricks on him. The fog settling in and the brightness of the moon were getting to him. That had to be it. She wasn't standing before him.

"Hermione?" He whispered, confusion creasing his brow. She nodded.

"No. It's not you. You're not real. You're dead. You're here, under the earth, under this gravestone. It's not you. I watched you die. I watched you sacrifice yourself for Ginny." Ron choked.

"It is me, Ron. It is me." She replied, walking over to him. She walked with an unearthly grace, her long white skirt barely brushing the ground. He turned his head from her as she got closer, trying to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes.

"Ron." That one word, the sound of his name from her lips caused the tears to flow. To hear that one word come from his dead love's lips was too much. The feeling of ice met warm skin as she laid her ghostly hand on his cheek.

Slowly, gently, she turned him to face her. She was met with blue eyes filled with tears and grief, and guilt for her death. Ron noticed that her own eyes held sadness and longing for him. He swallowed, and let out a silent sob, closing his eyes. Her ice cold fingers traced his features, and caressed his hair.

"Ron. Look at me, Ron." She whispered. He opened his eyes. Her lips parted slightly, as she thought of what to say next. Silence followed her words. He spoke next, his voice choked with tears.

"Why? Why did you come back, Hermione? Why did you come back?"

"I can't move on. Not now. Not until I see you. I'm forced to walk the earth, to haunt the graveyard, to watch you live your life. I'm not allowed to go to Heaven until I tell you goodbye. Heaven is beyond my grasp. I can't touch it; I can't go to Heaven until you accept that I'm gone. Until you accept that my life is over, and you let me go. Forever." Hermione replied, placing her other hand on his other cheek.

"Then let me join you now. Hermione, I.....I can't let you go. I can't." Ron said, tears in his throat. Hermione shook her head.

"No. Not now. Not when you have so much to live for. So much to do."

"Hermione, please. I have nothing to live for. Nothing without you." He cried in a choked whisper.

"Ron."

"Hermione, please. I can't live without you. Let me join you now. Please Hermione."

"No. No, Ron. You can't."

"Then what can I do?" He asked.

A small smile crossed her lips.

"You can dance with me." She whispered. Her hands left his face, and took his hands.

One transparent hand rested on his shoulder as he placed his hand on her ghostly waist. Their fingers entwined, ghost and human, dead and living, bride and groom, husband and wife, lovers, forever entwined as one.

Her skirt swirled as they danced, two lovers dancing in the moonlight on All Hallow's Eve. Anyone who watched would assume that the young man had gone mad, talking and dancing with no one, no one but his deceased love. A silent tune guided them as they waltzed in the graveyard, beneath the moonlight, oblivious to everything but each other.

Ron's fingers numbed as he held Hermione's waist and hand. She was so cold, so unearthly, and so beautiful. Death did things to her that life could never do. It made her more graceful, gentler, more desired, and more loved. His one true love was dead, and he was dancing with her spirit.

It hit him as he twirled her, her ghostly white skirt rising in a soft circle around her. The dress fit her perfectly, the halter revealing her back and the beautiful scoop of her neck. The white heels she had on gave her an extra inch, making her five foot four, instead of her normal, five foot three. The headband held her long chocolate curls from her face, which seemed to glow with ghostly color. A simple, silver locket hung on her neck, the locket, he recognized as the one he had given her for her seventeenth birthday, one month before her death. He knew what was in it; the pictures of them, at Bill and Fleur's wedding, memories of happier times.

A simple silver band resided on her finger. The ring had been her grandmother's. She had received it on her fifteenth birthday; it held a piece of her grandmother's soul. A direct heirloom from Rowena Ravenclaw herself; Hermione was a descendent of Ravenclaw, just like Ron was a descendent of Godric Gryffindor. It was written in the stars that the descendents of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were destined to be together.

Unfortunately, theirs was not the case. Ripped from Ron's arms at seventeen, Hermione was doomed to walk the earth until he released her from his grip, until he accepted her death. As he watched her spin, his memories of spring nights in the garden of the Burrow, the two of them dancing amid the fireflies and night pixies, as music flowed from the house into the garden; dancing together into the evening; the reception for Bill and Fleur showed brightly in his memory.

"_May I have this dance, Miss Granger?" Ron bowed and held out his hand. _

_Smiling, she accepted, held her yellow skirt in her hand, and followed him to the dance floor. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she smiled as she took his hand in hers. Their fingers entwined, he spun her around gently as the music played. _

"_You're an amazing dancer." He whispered. _

"_So are you. Where did you learn to waltz?" She replied. Ron blushed._

"_Mum insisted each of us take dance lessons when we were younger, in case any of us were planning to marry someday. I never thought I'd need to learn. Our instructor called it, 'Bell room dancing' I believe." He responded. _

_Hermione giggled, smiling. "I think you mean ballroom dancing, Luv." _

_Ron returned her smile. "Ballroom dancing." _

_With that, he spun her, both of them smiling as they waltzed past his family, oblivious to the smiles on his parents' and his siblings' faces._

Ron was unaware of the smile on his face. It wasn't until Hermione asked about it, that he noticed.

"What are you smiling at, Ron?" She asked, taking his hand again.

"I was just remembering." He replied.

"Remembering what?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding." Her eyes filled with sadness.

"Oh."

They continued their dance in silence. As they danced around the grave of seven-year-old Arabella Lupin, Remus Lupin's sister, Ron noticed a faint tune, barely audible. The tune was faint, but recognizable.

It was a haunting tune, a ghostly tune. A tune from a song he had listened to for days after her death. The tune of a song that Hermione had persuaded him to get when he had gotten a muggle Ipod for his sixteenth birthday from Harry. The song was beautiful, sad, ghostly, haunting. What had Hermione called it?

"_I don't know Hermione. Isn't it kind of…Sappy?" He had asked._

"_No. It's a beautiful song." She had replied, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders and kissing his neck. _

"_What's it about?" He asked, looking at her. _

"_It's about this woman's spirit and her lover. They're parted by death. And she's dancing one last waltz with her beloved before she goes towards the light."_

"_Oh, it's definitely a beautiful song." He replied sarcastically._

"_Yes it is. And it's sad and haunting." She had said, kissing his cheek. _

"_What's it called?" _

"_Dark Waltz."_

Dark Waltz. That was the name of it. It was a song about a woman sharing her last dance with her love before going to Heaven.

It was them. Sharing one last dance before she left him, forever. But that was the problem. She couldn't leave, not until he let her. She was doomed to the earth until he accepted that she was gone.

He could only think of her as they waltzed back to her grave. He wasn't ready to let her go.

"Dark Waltz."

"What?" She asked, following his lead.

"That's the name of the song. This tune; this song that we're dancing to. Dark Waltz." He replied, spinning her.

"What song? I don't hear----" her sentence faded as she listened carefully.

"I hear it." She whispered, smiling.

"Dance me into the night." Ron whispered in her ear, as they waltzed.

"Well, do it." She replied. "Dance me into the night, Ron."

Smiling, he twirled her, gathering her up in his arms again. She was cold against him. A chill traveled down his spine at the feel of his dead love's spirit in his arms. Dawn was hours away, it was close to one in the morning. All Ron could focus on was Hermione as she spun out and back into his arms. Her smile, though ghostly, was as bright as the moon.

When they finally came to a slow, gentle, waltz, he watched her. She waltzed in a graceful, unearthly way.

"_Where did you find it?" He asked._

"_It was on Dancing with the Stars." _

"_Dancing with the Stars? As in celestial stars? Dancing?" _

_She laughed. _

"_No. Stars, like, movie stars and football players and television show hosts dance with professional dancers."_

"_Oh." _

"_I'd like to be a professional dancer someday." She said, sticking the headphone into her ear, and returning to the song. _

'That's right.' Ron thought. Hermione had wanted to be a professional dancer. She would have taken a job at Hogwarts or St. Mungo's, or even the Ministry of Magic, just for something to help support herself, but dancing was what she had loved.

She could have been a professional dancer. If only she had lived. If only she hadn't sacrificed herself. If only she were with him, alive, real. But she wasn't. She was dead. Yet they were waltzing. The ghostly song on the gentle wind, was their music, the graveyard, their ballroom, the stones their audience and judges.

"You were going to be a professional dancer." The words were out of Ron's mouth before he realized what had been said. Hermione stopped dancing and looked at him, sadness creasing her features.

"Yes. I _was_ going to be a professional dancer. I was. But Voldermort changed all that." She said sadness and coldness dripping from her voice as she settled herself back into the waltz with Ron.

"I'm sorry Hermione." Ron said, tears forming in his eyes as he waltzed with her.

"For what?" She asked.

"I'm sorry for causing your death, for not becoming your husband, making you a mother, a grandmother. I'm sorry that you never lived to become a dancer. It's my fault." Ron replied, tears glistening in his eyes.

"It's not your fault, Ron. I sacrificed myself for your sister. For Ginny. The last thought I had of was you. Of us. The last words on my tongue were 'I love you.' All I saw was green, and then I woke up here. In the graveyard. I saw you and everyone else at my funeral, and I tried to get to you. I stood behind the old oak tree here and watched as they lowered my coffin into the ground. I saw the tears in your eyes, and how upset Mrs. Weasley was, and Ginny too. And when Harry tried to get you to come back to the Burrow, I came out of hiding, but you couldn't see me. I've been here since my funeral, Ron. I've watched you come back every night. I've watched you kneel and kiss my grave, lay your head on the stone; I've watched the tears glide down your cheeks. I've been here all along, Ron. I never dared to touch you, talk to you."

She followed his lead as they waltzed.

"Until now."

She nodded.

Taking his hand, she spun out, then back to him.

"Let me wheel, let me spin." Hermione whispered to him as he spun her out again.

"Let the dark waltz begin." He replied, as they waltzed.

"We are lucky, aren't we?" Hermione asked, as they slowed.

"What do you mean?"

"We get to have our last dance, you and me. I'll never forget this, Ron." She said, looking up at him.

"Neither will I." He replied, as they stopped.

It wasn't until Hermione placed her hands on his face, did Ron realize that they had stopped dancing, yet the tune could still be heard.

"Hermione, I---"

"Shh. Don't say it." She whispered, placing a ghostly finger over his lips. He kissed it gently, feeling the coldness of her skin.

She laughed softly, smiling.

"I never expected you to do that." She lowered her eyes briefly, before returning them to his eyes.

"I didn't either." He replied.

She wanted to say everything and nothing, to tell him what happened, why she did it, how she wanted so much to be with him, but couldn't. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her love, spilled over as she caressed his cheek.

"Ron. I…. I…I…."

Without another word, she kissed him. Her hands caressed his face, her ghostly lips pressed against his, his hands found her spirit waist, her eyes closed as she kissed him. It lasted no more than five minutes, their lips pressed together. Hermione's kiss felt no more than a feather—light, yet cold, cold as Death. As she pulled away, she held his face a few minutes longer. She wanted to remember him this way forever. Catching her breath, she looked at him, not letting him go.

"Ron. I have to go. It's time."

He looked at her. "What do you mean 'you have to go'? Where do you have to go? Why?"

"I have to go. I'm sorry."

"You said you couldn't leave, not without me accepting your death. I haven't. Where are you going?" He held her hands.

"I can see the light, Ron. I can see the light. I'm sorry." She whispered, pulling away.

Quickly, she kissed him, and backed away, pulling her hands out of his grasp. Backing away into the fog, she smiled sadly.

"They've decided it was time for me to go. That you accepted my death. I had my last dance with you, I'll be waiting, Ron. I'll be waiting. I promise." Her voice was getting softer as she backed away.

"I love you Ron. I love you." She said her voice and her spirit fading into the mist.

Ron was left standing in the graveyard, beside his love's grave, her ghostly kiss still on his lips, the feel of her hand in his still fresh, the sight of her in the dress she was buried in seared in his mind, and the sound of her voice, those little words that meant so much to him still in the air.

"I love you Ron. I love you." They danced on the wind, as the song continued on. He knew, she would be at peace for a while, anyway, until he joined her.

The tears dried on his cheeks as he watched the spot where she had appeared and disappeared. Her words ringing in his ears, mingled with the tune of the waltz.

"I love you Ron. I love you."

And still the waltz continued to play on, haunting him.

"I love you Ron. I love you."

_Sacred geometry_

_Where movement is poetry_

_Visions of you and me forever_

_Dance me into the night_

_Underneath the full moon shining so bright_

_Turning me into the light_

_Dance me into the night_

_Underneath the full moon shining so bright_

_Let the dark waltz begin_

_Oh let me wheel - let me spin_

_Let it take me again_

_Turning me into the light_

_----"Dark Waltz" by Hayley Westenra_


End file.
